The Day of the Beast eBook

Mel’s voice broke the spell. Lane made
a savage gesture, as if he were in the act of striking.
Thought of Mel recalled the stingingly sweet and bitter
fact of his love, and of life that called so imperiously.

CHAPTER XXIV

“If Amanda would only marry me!” sighed
Colonel A Pepper, as he stacked the few dishes on
the cupboard shelf and surveyed his untidy little
kitchen with disparaging eyes.

The once-contented Colonel was being consumed by two
great fires—­remorse and love. For
more years than he could remember he had been a victim
of a deplorable habit. Then two soft eyes shone
into his life, and in their light he saw things differently,
and he tried to redeem himself.

Even good fortune, in the shape of some half-forgotten
meadow property suddenly becoming valuable, had not
revived his once genial spirits. Remorse was
with him because Miss Hill refused to marry him till
he overcame the habit which had earned him undesirable
fame.

So day by day poor Colonel Pepper grew sicker of his
lonely rooms, his lonely life, and of himself.

“If Amanda only would,” he murmured for
the thousandth time, and taking his hat he went out.
The sunshine was bright, but did not give him the
old pleasure. He walked and walked, taking no
interest in anything. Presently he found himself
on the outskirts of Middleville within sound of the
muffled roar of the flooded river, and he wandered
in its direction. At sight of the old wooden bridge
he remembered he had read that it was expected to
give way to the pressure of the rushing water.
On the levee, which protected the low-lying country
above the city, were crowds of people watching the
river.

“Ye’ve no rivers loike thot in Garminy,”
observed a half-drunken Irishman. He and several
more of his kind evidently were teasing a little German.

Colonel Pepper had not stood there long before he
heard a number of witticisms from these red-faced
men.

After the manner of his kind the German had stolidly
swallowed the remarks about his big head, and its
shock of stubby hair, and his checked buff trousers;
but at reference to his native country his little
blue eyes snapped, and he made a remark that this river
was extremely like one in Germany.

At this the characteristic contrary spirit of the
Irishman burst forth.